In the Capitol
by slytherincredible
Summary: We all know that Johanna, Peeta, Annie, Darius and Lavinia were held hostage by the Capitol during Mockingjay, what we don't know is what happened. Please R&R but be kind. Pretty short, not too in depth. Enjoy! :


The light is so bright. It burns me even though my eyelids are closed. I struggle and struggle against restraints on my wrists, all I want to do is cover my eyes. I try to turn my head to the side, to block out the horrible, beating, searing light but the boards erected on either side of my neck prevent me from doing, even that. I pull at the restraints again, I start to scream.

"Keep calm, Ms Mason. This will all be over if you just tell us what you know," the voice comes from everywhere, the walls, the roof, the floor. It reverberates in my head, bouncing around my brain. "We don't want to make this difficult. Your actions are causing this." Every syllable the voice speaks brings a pounding in my head, beating against my eyes. It's so loud. The light is so bright. I pull at the restraints again, willing my hands to wriggle themselves out. I lift my head the half an inch the neck restraint allows and bang it repeatedly back onto the table. Another scream escapes my lips, I feel it come all the way up from my stomach. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming.

My brain registers the softness of my surroundings. It's almost as though I'm floating on air. My eyes flutter open and I take in my surroundings; white walls, white floor, white curtains surrounding my bed, white linen on my bed. I have to blink repetitively as my vision is littered with black dots that seem to intensify with every blink. I groan loudly, I want- no, I _need_ water. Every inch of my body aches for it. My throat feels like it's on fire and I'm sure it splits open every time I swallow. I swivel my head from side-to-side. I see it. Sitting on a small, wooden table about a metre from my bed, a pitcher full of clean, clear, sparkling water. A smile crosses my lips, which feel chapped and threaten to crack, and I almost lunge towards the table only to find myself held in place by a thick, black, leather strap, which is fastened to the bed. A whimper escapes my lips. It's too far. No, I can reach it. It's inches from my hand. If I reach a little further. I lean too far and fall out of the bed, only the strap keeps my lower body in place. I'm bent at an awkward angle, my left hand resting on the floor supporting my weight. I try to call for help but the blood is rushing to my head so quickly I can't speak. The black dots are still dancing along my line vision, only they are slowly intensifying. Suddenly, I'm sure I'm going to die. Right here, just like this. I exhale deeply, which is getting difficult as the blood rushes to my brain, and slowly allow my eyes to close.

Strong hands pull me back on to the bed. I feel the soft pillows cushion my aching head. I groan inadvertently. I open my eyes, but slowly. My throat is still burning and 'throbbing' doesn't even begin to describe my head at the moment.

"Are you trying to kill yourself, Ms Mason?"

I force my eyes to focus on the person sitting in the chair by my bed. When they do my stomach seems to drop to my knees. It's President Snow, he is flanked by two peacekeepers, they stand on either side of him. Their faces impassive, their arms folded. "No, that's your job, isn't it?" I say, even though it comes out raspy and horrible. I clear my throat and regret it instantly, my throat is surely on fire.

"Oh, how rude of me. Would you like a drink?" he says snakily, handing me the pitcher of water and an empty glass.

I snatch both from his hands and with complete disregard for the cup I grasp the pitcher in both hands and lift it to my mouth. I feel half of it spill down my front but I don't care. The water sliding down my throat is like heaven.

I focus my attention back on Snow. He isn't the type of person you should ignore for too long. He is smiling at me in what might be a kind way, _might be_, if I didn't know him better. His hands are sitting placidly in his lap and he is surveying me with apparent interest. I catch his eye and he leans in towards me, very slowly as though he were steeling himself to attack me, "Where is Katniss Everdeen?"

I hold his gaze, knowing that to look away would give him exactly what he wants. I jerk my head quickly from side-to-side.

He sighs deeply, "Do _not_ make this difficult for yourself. Is she, or is she not currently in the company of District rebels in Thirteen?"

I finally drop his gaze, but only to take another large gulp of water. After I swallow the water and let it settle in my stomach I say, "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. _Mister_ President,"

He sighs again and nods to the peacekeepers. They walk closely beside him as he exits the room. Just before he opens the door he looks over his shoulder at me, the look in his eye almost hints to regret. But then again, I know him better.

As I watch the sun set through the tiny window on the wall, I hear a slight rustling from behind the curtain wall. I freeze, my eyes wide, my hands clutching the blanket up to my chest.

"Hello?" I call boldly, only half wanting an answer. I can't pretend I'm not relieved when none comes.

"Johanna?" comes from behind the curtain about five minutes later. My heart skips a few beats this time. Whoever it is knows who I am, and I don't recognise the voice. I don't answer this time, but slide down into the sheets and cover my eyes. President Snow's almost-pitying look swims across my vision and I blink hard to get him out of my head.

"Johanna," the voice repeats, "It's Peeta," I recognise the voice now that I have a name to match it to.

"Peeta?" I hiss back, "how long have you been there?"

"Have you seen Katniss?" he asks, clearly he ignored what I just said.

"No. i haven't seen anyone except peacekeepers and Snow,"

I hear him let out a sob. Then he falls silent.

The sun shining through the window wakes me up the following morning. I open my eyes warily and look around. I immediately see that someone has pushed back the thick curtains during the night. So Peeta, laying in his bed, is clearly visible to me. In the bed on his other side lays a young-ish girl with red hair, I've never seen her before and can't even begin to imagine why she's here. I can't see the occupants of the other two beds.

"Peeta!" I hiss across at him. He sleeps on his back, his arms sprawled out on either side of him. His hair is tousled and even in his sleep I can see the dark purple circles that have settled under his eyes. "Peeta!" I say louder, it's still barely above a whisper. But it's as loud as I dare to speak.

He jolts awake as completely as if I'd shaken him and yelled in his ear. "Katniss?" he says wildly, his eyes bursting, "Oh," he must have realised he was dreaming, "Johanna. Hi, nice to see something other than curtains," he looks to his left and surveys the red-headed girl.

"Who is that?" I ask, pointing my chin in her direction.

"She … she is an Avox. She served K-Katniss and I in the training centre before both of our Games," I see him crane his neck and observe the other two beds, the ones that I can't see, "And the other guy, he's an Avox too. He served us before the Quell. But before that he was a peacekeeper in Twelve. He was Katniss' friend …"

"Who's in the other bed?" I prompt, not wanting him to be caught up in a sob session about the stupid Mockingjay.

"I can't say for sure, but I think … I think it's Annie Cresta," he shakes his head slightly to accentuate the fact he's unsure, "Johanna, what are we doing here?"

I just shake my head. I don't want to tell him more than he needs to know, and if he doesn't know about the rebellion then I'm not going to tell him.

It happens almost as fast as lightning. Peeta and I barely have time to lay straight in our beds again. The team of doctors come in, wheeling a cart. They surround the Avox girl's bed, where she is still sleeping. One of the doctors moves swiftly shutting all the curtains, but even though they are incredibly thick they offer no sound protection. I hear the girl grunt and make an odd noise as they wake her up. This must be the sound Avox's make, I've never heard them make noise before, they're usually forbidden to speak. Not that they can.

"Lavinia," says a cold, hard voice that must belong to one of the doctors,

She makes that odd grunting sound again. I raise my eyebrows at Peeta, surely, they aren't planning on questioning this girl, she doesn't know anything and even if she did, she couldn't tell them anything.

"Lavinia, _where is Katniss Everdeen?_ Tell us everything you know about the rebellion,"

She grunts again, only this time there is some urgency behind it. If she could speak, I'm sure she'd be pleading. The curtain heeds my view but the sound that escapes her mouth next makes me slide down further under the blanket. It would be a scream if she were capable of making normal sounds. Instead, a horrible, guttural noise comes from her throat.

"Tell us what you know!" a high, cold female voice screams.

More of those guttural sound they grate at my bones. I feel tears well in my eyes, as I know she is being tortured. I look over at Peeta and see him lying flat on his back with his eyes closed; on first inspection, I think he's asleep. Then I notice his hands, they're balled around the corners of his blanket. His knuckles are white from holding on so tight.

I hear a splash of water, a strange buzzing noise, an inhuman groan and one of the harsh voices swear in very quick succession. A horrible smell pervades my nostrils, it smells like burnt hair. I cough briefly; I don't want to make too much noise. I can hear the doctors arguing in low voices from behind the closed curtains but I can't make out their words.

After a few minutes of the arguing they push the curtains back and I see that the clean, white sheet has been pulled right up. Lavinia is now no more than a lump in the blanket. A weight drops in to my stomach as I realise what must have just happened. Without a glance at the rest of us the doctors wheel the bed out of the room and the door shuts with an ominous 'click.'

The room is eerily silent, and then I hear sobbing. I crane my neck and see that Peeta was not mistaken; Annie Cresta indeed occupies the last bed. She's laying on her side, clutching at her dark brown hair. Her face is as white as the bed sheets. I can't immediately come up with a reason why she's here. She certainly doesn't know anything about the rebellion, she's way too unstable to be informed about any of it. Finnick knew that … Finnick. He must be with Katniss, wherever she is. They're using Annie as bait for him. A feel a stab of pain in my midsection for Finnick, if he knows she's here …

That night, the curtains remain open. But we're all afraid to speak, although we haven't been told we have to keep quiet. Sometimes instincts just take over. As the night wears on it becomes bitterly cold. The blanket is pulled up to my chin and I still shiver violently. I also register how very hungry I am and cannot remember the last time I ate anything. As though this thought echoed across the room I hear Peeta's stomach make a rumbling sound as he exhales deeply, his breath is shaky and I feel sure that he, just like me, is slowly freezing to death.

I wake to the sound of voices. My eyes burst open and I immediately see the curtain between mine and Peeta's bed is pulled shut. I listen hard and lean as far as I can toward the curtain.

"I don't know. I don't know where she is," says Peeta, his voice is shaky

"Mr Mellark, you'd better be thinking _very _carefully about this. Do not protect her; she would not protect you if she were in your position,"

"I'm not protecting her. I don't know where she is. I- we- she- I don't know what you mean when you say 'rebellion'"

"Intelligence tells us she is currently holed up in District Thirteen with a plethora of District Rebels, including such Victors as you mentor, Finnick Odair and Beetee. What do you think?"

"I told you," he says, I can hear the tears bubbling in his throat; "I told you I don't know anything. And neither did she! I don't know what she knows now. But she knew _nothing _before the Quell!"

I admire his nerve, yelling at what must be an esteemed member of the Capitol. He must be a lot more useful to the cause if he's not being electrified like the Avox girl- I hear him scream. It makes my head throb, I want to help him but I know I can't. I don't know what they're doing to him, I can't hear the buzz that preceded the Avox's grunts, all I can hear are Peeta's screams.

"What did they do to you?" I ask him an hour later, when the Capitol people leave, "I heard you screaming. What were they doing?"

"I don't know what it was," his eyes are blank and staring into the distance, "one minute this guy was asking me what I knew about a rebellion. Then I yelled at him and I- I heard … Katniss,"

"Katniss? What do you mean you heard Katniss?"

"I heard her. In my head. She was … screaming. Like … remember the Jabberjay we heard screaming like Prim in the forest in the arena. It sounded like that, only it was Katniss … and it was inside my head,"

I can't think of anything to say to this. The way his eyes dart around the room makes me sure that if he stays here they are going to unhinge him. As strong as he is, there are certain ways he is extremely vulnerable.

"Why don't you go to sleep, Peeta? Just keep telling yourself it wasn't real. It wasn't Katniss screaming. She's in Thirteen-" shit. I told myself I wasn't going to tell him.

"What?" he says, sitting up awkwardly, he obviously has the strap around his middle like I do. "What did you say? She's in Thirteen? The Capitol are right? What's she doing there? How did she get there? What-"

"Peeta!" I say, holding my hand up to silence him, "Yeah, she's in Thirteen. When she blew out the arena they picked up her, Finnick and Beetee,"

I see a look of pain dance across his face, "So … she knew about a rebellion? She always planned to break out of the arena?"

"No," I say quickly, I need to clarify this. He looks like he's about to cry, "No, Peeta. She knew as much as you did. There was a plan from the start to break us all out. Only … I guess there was a hitch in the rescue mission because here we are,"

He nods slowly; the shadows under his eyes are so dark they look drawn there.

"Johanna?" a weak voice carries to me from down the end of the room, "did you say Finnick is in Thirteen? He is safe?"

"Yes, Annie. He's safe. Well, as far as I know. Thirteen could be a bunch of madmen, I guess," I know I shouldn't be joking. No one is in the mood for laughing, only I can't help but be jealous of Peeta and Annie. They have people out there they love; people that love them. People that will be worried about them, as they are worrying now.

Screaming. Screaming. Screaming. It grates in to my brain and settles there. The scream is coming from the bed right next to me. But it feels like it's in my ear. The room is pitch dark and I feel like my eyes are still closed. I blink rapidly, hoping to get my vision back. The screaming is making my ears ring, it's so loud, it's so close, it must be me. I must be screaming. I can't stop. It's not me. It's not, it can't be. I can't hear anything. I can't think anything. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming.

"Peeta!" I screech, trying to make myself heard over his racket. From the dull light of the moon and the fact that my eyes have adjusted slightly to the dark I see him in his bed, thrashing around like a maniac, the leather strap must still be holding him to the bed but he is clearly fighting hard against it. He's banging his head and waving his arms, "Peeta!" I screech again.

"Johanna! I can't-" a shudder runs through his body, cutting off his speech. He grits his teeth and grasps the sheets, "I can't breathe. It's Kat-Katniss. She's screaming in … side my head- I" his body writhes again, it's almost like I'm looking at a completely insane person. He shakes his head rigorously from side to side as if trying to get the sound away.

With great difficulty, I wiggle, struggle, and pull myself upwards until I feel myself slipping upwards through the strap. I climb out of my bed and my legs feel like jelly after so long laying down. I wobble the three steps to Peeta's bed and climb in beside him. "It's okay, Peeta, she's not here. She's not screaming," I say as soothingly as I can manage. With a tentative hand, I stroke his hair. Every so often, I feel his body tense and I know he grits his teeth. Eventually he falls asleep with me still stroking his hair lightly. Occasionally he lets out a small whimper, he must be dreaming of her.

I wake up in my bed again. I don't know how I got here, but I do know that I'm tied to the bed by my ankles, wrists and waist now. Guess they can't risk me getting up again. I lay flat, like a board. I have a bad feeling in my stomach, I know there will be repercussions to my comforting Peeta last night. And there is.

The doctors come in silently, just like they did when they questioned the Avox. They all wear the same expressionless look on their faces and set to work. Hooking me up to tubes and machines. I don't even try to resist them, fear has me paralysed. I have a vivid memory of the horrible smell that came from the Avox and my stomach seizes up.

"Johanna, are you going to tell us what you know about the rebellion?"

My throat feels like it's closing up. I can't breathe. I can't speak. I can't even move. I try to say 'no' but all that comes out is a wretched choking sound. I swallow, breathe deeply in. then out. In. then out. "I don't know anything," I say finally, it still sounds strained but it's audible.

The doctor sighs and starts pressing buttons on one of the machines. Another of the doctors, a woman, with cold, blue eyes and next to no lips begins to splash me with water. I muster up all my courage and spit at her. It hits her right on her large, wide nose. Her eyes widen and she splashes more water on me. I don't know what this is supposed to do, but I know this can't be anything good. Then the male doctor presses a button on the machine in a final sort of way and steps back.

Pain. That's all I know. That's all I am. There is no doctor, there is no room. Peeta is not metres from me. I am one, big ball of pain. The muscles in my arms twitch out of my control and I feel them seize, like they're getting smaller. I grit my teeth together and grab the blanket that's resting on my mid-section. I don't permit myself to scream, groan or even whimper. I will not give them that satisfaction.

As quickly as the pain came, it stops. I hear myself panting, trying to regain my breath, but I feel strangely detached from my body.

"I will ask you again," the no-lipped, female doctor says, "_what do you know!_"

I stay silent, I will not say anything.

She splashes more water on me, all over my body. I feel like I've been standing in the rain. Then my whole body convulses wildly. The pain is back, it is running through me, consuming me. I hear screaming and don't realise it's me for a full minute. It stops. I lay flat on the bed, breathing deeply, trying to control myself. Then it starts again. This time the female doctor takes a cup and launches it at my face and neck. It splashes against my chin and I feel drops go everywhere. The places the water hit begin to burn with the pain that I'm feeling all over my body.

"Are you ready to talk yet?" the bitch hisses, she is inches from my ear now; there is a note of triumph in her voice. It makes me determined to keep my mouth shut. She curses under her breath and all at once I am unhooked from the machines and the doctors are leaving.

Screaming is all I know. Screaming and pain. The days blur together. All I am is one, big scream. That never seems to end. I scream, Peeta screams, Annie screams, the Avox boy, Darius, Peeta called him, makes odd, guttural noises until one day he stops. The doctors wheel his bed out of the room, just like they did with the girl.

"And then there were three," I say grimly when the door snaps shut behind me. Peeta and Annie are both lying in their beds, stiff as boards, eyes wide. Annie stays like that all day, every day. Except for the occasional whimpers she makes and in the night she screams. So does Peeta. I guess I do too.

The doctors come and go at unknown intervals. Seeing us all separately. Each time they close the curtains, though that doesn't stop us being able to hear every sound.

It is late afternoon, the doctors haven't come all day, which has set us on edge. My stomach has been clenched since I woke up this morning. Anticipating the pain is worse than the actual pain. Then they come, the sun is nearly setting, it will be night soon. The door opens and my stomach tightens to a point I think it may explode. There is no telling who they will see to today. They cross the room and stop at my bed, draw the curtains and extract a long needle from their trolley. I try to resist as the no-lipped doctor holds out my left arm, but it's pointless, they've got me tied so tightly I can barely breathe as it is. She sticks me with the needle with almost indecent vigour, then she smiles and backs away. She replaces the needle in the trolley and they leave the room. Without a word. This is much, much worse than the electricity. I don't know what she just injected in to me, I don't know what is going to happen, I don't know what to expect.

My eyelids feel heavy, my head feels like it is filled with stones. My stomach is churning, but they might be from hunger. They feed us once every three days, or so. I fight my fatigue as long as I can. The sun has just set when I finally succumb to it. The last thing I hear before my eyelids close is Peeta screaming for Katniss. Just what I need, more screaming.

I'm in a beautiful, green forest. It is big, there are trees everywhere. It is so peaceful here, so devoid of screaming, or any sign of pain that I could cry.

"Johanna!" that voice sends a weight down into my stomach; I can almost feel it drop with a thud. I look wildly around the trees, trying to find her. It calls again, in a childish, sing-song way. I begin to run, I need to find her, to see her for myself, for the first time in almost ten years. I see her, she ducks behind a tree. Her dark hair is tied in two pigtails high on her head, her dress is a calming, sky blue and she runs fast on her short, stumpy child legs. I call for her to wait, but she doesn't. she continues running, running through the trees calling to me. My baby sister, she always did love hide and seek. I keep following her though, I need to get to her. I want to hug her, to kiss her, to tell her I'm sorry. That's when her voice changes, she still calls for me, but it sounds more desperate now, she even sounds scared. My pace quickens as I run, run towards that horrible sound. I make it to a clearing where I see her. Surrounded by a team of people in white coats. I approach them with caution, they do not move, they do not show any recognition towards me. it's like they don't know I'm here. She is strapped to a gurney, she is screaming. They are hurting her, I can't see what they are doing, but they are hurting her. I try to reach her, but she moves, they all do. They move about three feet away from where I'm standing. I run, closing the distance, but they move again. This keeps happening, I don't how long for. I'm starting to get desperate, her voice is getting more high-pitched. I finally collapse on to the soft, green grass and begin to wail, I beat my fists on the ground, I call her name. I scream for her. I claw at my hair and at my face. I rip the grass straight out of the ground.

"Johanna?"

I look up quickly, so fast I crick my neck. I ignore the pain, I am used to pain. My mother is standing there, in the trees, looking at me dolefully. She looks so happy, so peaceful. When I meet her eye she smiles at me, and turns on her heel and walks away. I drag myself to my feet and follow her. She doesn't slow down even though I am calling for her at the top of my voice. I want her to turn around. I want her to see me. Soon, she is joined on her walk by someone else, a man. My father, just how I remember him. He links his hand in hers and they walk together, as though they are just taking a leisurely stroll through the forest. As though their daughter is not screaming for them to turn around. They must hate me, hate me for what I did to them. We reach another clearing and my little sister bounds out of the trees. She runs to my mother and jumps in to her arms. All three of them turn around at once and I nearly fall over. They look exactly as they did the last time I saw them, except for one difference. They are covered in blood. Their faces are cut open, my sister's right eye is missing, my father has a wound on his stomach that has left his shirt covered in blood.

"You did this to me," he says, gesturing to his mid-section, "you did this to all of us."

"You were selfish" my mother nods.

"Why did you do it?" my sister asks, in her soft, childish voice, "Why did you hate me?"

"No!" I say, taking frantic steps to reach them, I need to speak to them, to make them understand what I did. I never wanted to hurt them, "No! I didn't- I don't- I love you. _I love you!_" I reach out to try and grab them, but they keep receding, into the trees. They look grotesque and they seem to be getting bloodier.

"I love you," I keep repeating it over again, trying to make them understand, "I'm sorry!" I whimper. I collapse on to the grass again and lay there, curled in to a ball, arms wrapped around my waist. "I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry. Forgive me, please, _please."_

_ "Forgive me, please, please, please-"_

"Johanna?" Peeta's voice jars me back to consciousness, the room is pitch black, I am temporarily blinded, bar the horrible images swimming across my vision, of my family gruesome and mutilated. I hear myself hyperventilating, I push my head back in to the pillows; wishing I could dissolve, become nothing, and disappear from this world forever. "Johanna, are you okay?"

"They were there, Peeta, they said they hated me. they said- they said-"

"Shhh," he says calmingly, "who was there? Where?"

"My family … they were there, in my dream. But- but it wasn't a dream, it was _real._ I chased them through the forest near home- where- where I used to cut the trees, they told me it was my fault- it was my fault- I- I-" I dissolve in to tears and lose the end of my sentence.

"It wasn't real," Peeta says soothingly, "it's just like what I've been seeing with Katniss-"

"Katniss didn't _die _because of you, Peeta. You are going to die because of her!" I say this without thinking; I don't mean to say it. A twinge of regret stabs through me as I hear a sob escape Peeta's mouth. "Peeta, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I-"

"It's okay," he says, calming himself, "I know."

Then the light in the hallway turns on, the bright light shines through the cracks in the door. We hear muffled voices and we all immediately fall silent.

"… yes, none of them want to talk. They really leave us with no choice …"

I hear a muffled reply, but cannot make out what it's saying. I am straining myself so hard to listen I nearly explode.

"Only choice … we have the bombs … it's what we've got to do, I know, it's risky, but we might get her …"

I tense, I can hear Peeta in the next bed, he was struggling to get his head closer to the door moments ago, but now he falls silent. We both put two and two together.

"Katniss," he breathes in to the darkness, "Johanna, they're going to bomb Thirteen. They're going to kill her."

"Chill out, Peeta. We don't know that's what they were talking about."

"I have to do something, I have to warn her. I'll- I'll-"

"How are you going to warn her?" I say sceptically.

"Trick them," says a voice from out of the darkness, I didn't even know Annie was awake- or capable of normal human speech, "make them think you're on their side." Peeta and I are both silent now, a thought runs through my mind, _'Annie really is crazy"_

"What do you mean, Annie?" Peeta says, his voice still sounds kind.

"I mean, well, you've been on with Caesar before, haven't you? Offer to go again, call for a ceasefire or whatever, act like the wounded lover boy. That's what you're good at." She says this so simply, I am astounded. I've never seen Annie so sane, of course, I have never felt so insane, so I'm not sure if my thoughts and perceptions are accurate.

The doctors come in on time in the morning; they cross to Annie's bed. She shrinks back in to the sheets, tears welling in her large eyes.

"Wait!" Peeta says, I thought he was asleep, but clearly not. "Wait! I want- want- I want to go on with Caesar again. I want to be on your side. I'm sick of this, all of this."

The doctors' exchange glances with each other, not saying a word. The one with no lips locks eyes with the large, male doctor and shrugs one of her shoulders. They exit the room as quickly and silently as they came.

"Give 'em hell, Peeta." I say reassuringly, he is lying in his bed, almost as white as the sheets, his hands are balled around his blanket and I can see a muscle twitching in his jaw.

"Yes," Annie says blankly, "Yes, you know what you have to do. Save Katniss … and Finnick." She pauses here for a moment, she swallows hard and continues, "be clever, though. Like you always are. You have a way with words, I know you can do it."

He nods, and wets his lips with his tongue. "I think I know what I'm going to do."

The doctors come back about an hour later and wheel Peeta's bed out of the room, just before the door closes; he turns his head and winks at Annie and me. A stab of unease goes through me, I hope he can do it, but I also hope he doesn't die trying.

Annie and I are left alone for the whole day; we are sent a dismal meal of grain that is dry and slightly burned, also a pitcher of water. I can't keep Peeta off my mind, I wonder what he's going to do- how he's going to manage to get a warning to Katniss via live television. All the things that could go wrong run through my head; what if Thirteen is not watching the television? What is they don't do it live and edit him out, leaving him with the consequences?

It is late in to the night when Peeta is returned; he is wheeled in on his bed and looks very worse for wear. His face is a bloodied mess and the way he is holding his side makes me suspect broken ribs.

"How did it go?" I ask, the second the doctors have left the room.

"Well." He says stiffly, he winces and cradles his side, "I think I did it. I hope it got through."


End file.
